


A Very Merry Christmas, Indeed

by furaleii



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Shopping, Christmas Tree, Crack, Dark Will, Dark Will Graham, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Murder Husbands, No Angst, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Post-Finale, Shopping, Sugar Daddy Hannibal Lecter, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, hannibal actually likes hot chocolate, kind of, literally just pure fluff, mentions of sugar daddy hannibal, this is just them going christmas tree shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furaleii/pseuds/furaleii
Summary: Will stared at the large display of what looked like hundreds of ornaments lining the walls of La Bottega Di Pre Venezia, a popular and quaint gift shop that prided itself with handmade ornaments of all kinds. It was one of the few gift shops that Hannibal didn’t greet with open disdain, and the amount of gaudy and intricate ornaments they had for sale were right up Hannibal’s alley.“We couldn’t just go buy a pack of ornaments from Walmart?”_______Or, Will decides that he would like a Christmas tree this year. Hannibal, of course, settles for nothing but the best.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 119





	A Very Merry Christmas, Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> The holidays are basically just an excuse for me to write tooth-rotting fluff, so here we are. I wrote this in a total of two days and it's probably the shortest piece of fiction I've written (that wasn't for school) so hopefully it flows well-enough. I don't personally celebrate Christmas (I celebrate Yule) but my family does so it's still a very important part of my life this time of year. Happy holidays and much love!
> 
> Hope y'all like it! Enjoy!

“Should we get a tree?” Will questioned, sitting on the couch with Hannibal, as they were sharing a bottle of wine. He was looking over at an empty corner of their house, one with windows connecting at the corner and frost shining through—it would be the perfect spot for one.

“Would you want one?” Hannibal answers, and Will thinks he would. He used to have one that he would put up every year, but it was fake and flimsy, and the ornaments he hung on it were from the dollar store near his old house in Louisiana. He’s never gotten a real tree for the holidays, and when he lived by himself he never even bothered to put one up. He continues to stare at the empty corner, and he can feel Hannibal staring at his profile. Even after this long, a year after they had gone off a cliff together and recovered, Hannibal’s stare still made him itchy and restless.

"If you would like one, I will gladly acquire one, Will. You know that.” Hannibal says again. He can feel Will arguing with himself inside of his head, as he has always done. He’s glad he’s finally stopped fighting himself about Hannibal, his near-death experience of pushing the both of them over the cliff having finally made him give into what he had been trying to hide for so long. Hannibal would much rather deal with the indecisiveness of getting a Christmas tree.

“I know. But do _you_ want one? I’m not going to beg for a Christmas tree if you don’t even want one.” Will replies, and Hannibal lets out a nearly imperceptible sigh. Will hears it of course, after having so long to get used to all of Hannibal’s micro expressions and well-hidden reactions, and looks over at him with a look that showed that he was still _clearly_ hoping Hannibal would say yes.

Hannibal didn’t really care either way, but he was always willing to do something purely because he knew it would make Will happy. He had never really cared for Christmas trees to begin with—he always set one up in his office around the holidays for his clients, and a large, impersonal one at his house for dinner parties, but nothing that he had particularly enjoyed. He thinks, though, that buying one with Will would be a completely different experience. Everything he does with Will that he used to do purely for practicality or for social appeal was completely different, and domestic in a way he had never thought himself capable of.

He shifts down the sofa until he sat directly next to Will, thighs and elbows touching the other man who was still staring hopefully at him. He brings his hand up, cupping Will’s face in the way that he had always done—near the nape of his neck, his thumb brushing the light stubble that Will kept on his cheeks. It had become something of a customary intimacy between the two of them, and Will leaned into it the way he always did—eyes fluttering shut, a content sigh escaping him, any stress or tension in his body melting away in a way that always made Hannibal breathless in delighted awe.

“We can go buy one now, if you’d like. And we can go into town later tonight to buy some ornaments. The Christmas lights in Venice are beautiful at night.”

Will’s arms wrap around Hannibal’s waist, and he leans forward to rest his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. His breath escapes his mouth in a huff, before he pecks a chaste kiss on Hannibal’s neck.

“A real one?” he asks quietly, almost whispering. Hannibal wraps his arms around Will, a tight embrace that both of them perpetually crave.

“I would accept nothing less than a real one. We should go now—the earlier we go, the more chance we will have of getting a nice one,” he thinks for a moment, before adding on, “and less people.” He knows how much Will prefers to stay as far away from civilization as possible.

All he gets in response is a giddy smile and an excited press of lips to his own, and he finds he didn’t much regret his decision at all.

*

“This one’s nice!” Will calls out from the back of a 7-foot-tall fir, and Hannibal turns away from the spruce he had been examining. He walks over to the younger man and inspects, what looks to be, a very well-trimmed tree. It was a nice height for their high ceilings, and a deep green that reminded Hannibal of the forest behind Will’s house in Wolf Trap during winter. It had no noticeable gaps or brown spots, which most of the other trees in the parameter had been sporting.

Hannibal called the salesman over to tell him which one they would be buying, and Will was practically vibrating with poorly concealed excitement. He had no real clue as to why he was so excited for a Christmas tree—maybe it was because it was real, and he had never had a real one before. Or maybe it was just because it was his _and_ Hannibal’s tree—theirs, together, as a pair.

When he had pushed himself and Hannibal off a cliff, it was purely a test of fate. If they died in each other’s arms that night, he would’ve been okay with it. He would’ve died peacefully knowing he had taken out both the Red Dragon and the Chesapeake Ripper in one night, and killed the blossoming darkness inside of him on the same run.

When both him and Hannibal had survived the fall, however—barely, but enough—he let it be a sign that their lives together were not yet finished. He had literally and metaphorically taken the plunge with Hannibal, and there was no going back. He had let the darkness that had been hidden in a cage for so long be set free, and he himself bloomed in a way he never thought possible. When he let that darkness free, the romantic feelings for Hannibal that he had not-so-well hidden away came flowing to the surface as well, and their mutual company went from tense and awkward silence to comfortable and domestic living. Not to mention the sex was the best in both of their respective lives.

Every once in a while he would feel guilty about Jack, and Alana, and especially Molly and Wally, but then Hannibal would break his careful composure around Will, showing him just how much Hannibal truly loved him, and he found he didn’t regret much of anything. Just a few days after the cliff fall, he had taken off his wedding ring and through it in the stream a mile away from the cabin Chiyoh had provided for them to recover before they made the trip out of the country.

If he missed anything the most, it would be his dogs. He constantly wondered how Winston was doing, his trusty companion, who always followed him while sleepwalking or ran back home when in the hands of another caregiver. He desperately hoped Molly was taking good care of him.

The animalistic thrill he felt while killing with Hannibal, displaying the body however they saw fit, the absolute freedom and power and _rush_ that came with it, well—that was all just a bonus.

*

Getting the gigantic tree inside of the doorway was a hassle, but between Hannibal and Will, they were able to maneuver it enough to shove it through the threshold without causing too much of a mess. Lots of cursing was involved, the large majority of it coming from Will’s mouth, but they safely got it inside and sitting in the red cast-iron tree stand that they had purchased. It looked much larger in the room than it did out in the open, but fit nicely, stopping a couple of feet before it touched the ceiling, and spanning out in a wide circle that took up the entire corner.

“It’s perfect.” said Will, clear adoration in his voice, as Hannibal hands him a cup of freshly made hot chocolate.

“Not quite. We haven’t decorated it yet.” Hannibal replies, and Will hums in agreement but doesn’t say much more, lazily leaning against Hannibal’s side. The cold outside had caused his cheeks and nose to redden, and Hannibal brushes Will’s curls away from his face to kiss both cheeks. He had grown it out after Hannibal confessed to having a soft spot for his curls, and ever since it had gotten long enough to brush against his cheeks and cover his forehead, Hannibal regularly brushed it back. Will would have thought it was out of irritation, as Hannibal was generally one to prefer hair neatly styled and out of the way, but the look on his face as he does it is anything other than irritated. Adoration, devotion, and love flows openly from his eyes, and it’s always followed by an intimate act, whether that be a kiss or a tight embrace (or, that one time, a tight grip on his neck that led to a particularly salacious night well spent—now _that_ was a nice memory).

The light touch of lips on both of his cheeks makes his eyelashes flutter, and he revels in the closeness, bringing himself impossibly closer to Hannibal until they were pressed against each other and breathing in his well-known and comfortable scent—cinnamon, vanilla, wood, and wine, mixed with the foresty smell of the fir tree. He would never not be intoxicated by his smell, and he knows Hannibal thinks the same about him.

“Will the Christmas stores be busy tonight?” he asks, because he tries to avoid social settings as much as possible. Not only is he terrible with people, but he’s constantly nervous that they’re going to be recognized. It hasn’t happened yet, but he knows it will at some point. He enjoys this house, however, and he would like to keep living in it for a while longer before heading to their next, currently unknown, destination.

“Maybe a little crowded, but nothing we haven’t been able to handle before. People are too focused on themselves this close to the holiday, anyway.”

Will hums again, not moving from their embrace.

“Do you celebrate Christmas?” he asks, curious. He knows a bit about Hannibal’s background, more than most, but they had never gotten to the specifics, like holiday traditions and celebrations.

“Before my parents and sister were killed, we would celebrate Christmas every year. After that, I tended to avoid the majority of the traditions I had been raised to perform. My beloved aunt Lady Murasaki would always celebrate, and I would often join her in Japan. After that, however, the majority of my celebration has generally been held through dinner parties and mandatory gift giving throughout the years.” He replies, open and without hesitation. Will is silent for a moment, debating how to respond. He decides to tell his own Christmas traditions.

“My father would put up the same fake tree every year, a pre-lit four foot tall one that we would set on top of the living room coffee table. I always wanted a real one but he would refuse because of fire hazards. After I moved out with him, I tried setting one up, but living alone never really gave me a reason to. Setting up a fake Christmas tree that wouldn’t have gifts under it or anyone to enjoy it with seemed like a waste. My mom, before she died, preferred Yule to Christmas.”

Hannibal hums in a thoughtful manner, rubbing his hands up and down the expanse of Will’s back. He could feel his groin start to grow interested, but ignored it in favor of enjoying the intimacy and contentment coming from the both of them.

“I am glad to be the one to spend this holiday season with, Will. I hope the live tree has lived up to all of its expectations so far.” Hannibal says, relaxed and peaceful in Will’s ear. Will loves moments like these between the two of them—Hannibal completely open and relaxed, masked demeanor cracked for no one but him.

“It has. Thank you,” he says, haphazardly dropping his hot chocolate as quietly as he can on the coffee table near him and wrapping both arms around Hannibal’s neck, looking him in his eyes that were full of love for only Will. “I love you, Hannibal.”

It wasn’t the first time he had said it, not even one of the first twenty times, but it made Hannibal shiver in delight nonetheless. Will smiles, looking up slightly, and kisses him, softly and delightfully. It doesn’t progress past anything but slow and exquisite intimacy, but neither of them can get enough. Hannibal pulls back, and whispers “I love you too, Will.” They continue their embrace in front of their newly acquired and undecorated Christmas tree.

*

Will stared at the large display of what looked like hundreds of ornaments lining the walls of _La Bottega Di Pre Venezia_ , a popular and quaint gift shop that prided itself with handmade ornaments of all kinds. It was one of the few gift shops that Hannibal didn’t greet with open disdain, and the amount of gaudy and intricate ornaments they had for sale were right up Hannibal’s alley.

“We couldn’t just go buy a pack of ornaments from Walmart?” Will asks, more than overwhelmed at the number of unique ornaments. There seemed to only be a couple replications of each one, and Hannibal had already started grabbing a few of the most decorated. The one that seemed to hold his interest the most was gold and red, with cupid cameos and extravagant designs wrapped around it. The price tag was also more than the majority of Will’s possessions (that hadn’t been bought by Hannibal, who had taken a liking to buying anything Will wanted), and was probably decorated with real gold. He would have gaped at the price tag a year ago, but by now he was used to the seemingly endless amount of money that Hannibal had and the abundance of things that he liked to buy the highest quality of, and simply resigned himself to a shake of his head.

“Of course not. Those are cheaply made, and we want ornaments that will last us. None of them are unique either—they’re all mass produced by a machine. These are handmade and hand decorated.” Hannibal looks at him as if this was perfectly acceptable and that suggesting anything else would be ridiculously heinous.

Will decides to let it go, and instead starts to search for some ornaments himself. They had decided on the way there that they would pick out their own favorites, so they wouldn’t have to argue about what to buy. A clear crystal stag catches his eye, intricately decorated and impossibly delicate, and he grabs it from the display carefully, lightly holding it in his hand as he picks a few others out of the large wall.

He comes across a hand-painted tree with a hole in the middle for a picture, and can’t help but grab it. It’s ridiculous and cheesy, and Hannibal was sure to hate it, and he told himself he was buying it purely to irritate him. Something about the cheesiness of having to take a picture of themselves and taping it to the back of an ornament made part of him overly giddy—probably the same part that had practically begged himself to work up the courage to ask for a Christmas tree.

After way too long of searching through the ornaments, Hannibal and Will had finished collecting enough to cover the tree. He had hidden the picture frame at the bottom of his woven basket, and managed to keep it away from Hannibal’s gaze while checking out. Their ornaments didn’t necessarily match, but Will had never liked the impersonality of a perfectly decorated tree anyway.

The crystal stag was by far the most expensive ornament Will had picked for himself, but he thought it was much worth it. Even Hannibal looked at it with approval when checking out. Will made sure it was carefully packaged before tenderly setting it in his jacket pocket; he didn’t want to risk any of the ornaments breaking one of its legs.

The employee checking them out was a nice older lady, who asked them if they had finished all of their holiday shopping for the season. Considering Will’s gift to Hannibal had been helping him murder someone out of his ever-growing rolodex collection followed by sex, he could do nothing other than nod his head and smile.

By the end of their check-out, they had several bags filled with ornaments and lights that had been recommended by the kind woman. Hannibal had opted for the ivory white lights, because apparently the multicolored ones hadn’t been classy enough.

*

When they got home, Hannibal went straight to the kitchen to start dinner and make yet another pot of hot chocolate. Will wondered how neither of them had gotten cavities from the large amount of the drink they had been ingesting lately, after he showed Hannibal how to make it on the stove. As long as the chocolate was Hannibal’s overly expensive dark chocolate and not from a package, Hannibal had developed quite the sweet tooth from it.

While he was getting dinner ready, Will dug out the picture frame from the bottom of one of the bags, and grabbed his phone—a flat, sleek touchscreen that Hannibal had demanded he buy instead of the cheap flip phone he had been looking at—and went into the kitchen.

“Hannibal?” he asks, a slight twinge of nervousness in his voice because, if he was being completely honest, he had no clue how the other man would react to being asked for a selfie.

“Yes, Will?”

“Would you do something for me? Or—with me?” Will says, and Hannibal looks up at him from the onions he had been meticulously chopping. His eyebrows raise imperceptibly, his way of waiting for Will to ask his favor.

“Would you take a picture with me? On my phone?” Hannibal’s eyes show the barest amount of surprise, but he nods almost without hesitation, and Will is both relieved and surprised at how little convincing it had taken.

He walks over to Hannibal and stands close to him, close enough that he can feel the warmth of Hannibal and feel his breath ghosting his cheek. Neither of them are really known for taking selfies, but he holds the phone up anyway and waits until they’re both posed before quickly snapping the picture and thanking Hannibal, kissing his cheek before running off and letting him continue the preparation of the meal. Hannibal, knowing better than to ask Will why he wanted a picture, just returns to chopping the vegetables in front of him—he was sure he’d find out soon enough.

While Hannibal is cooking, Will starts decorating the tree. He puts the lights on first, pushing the tree just forward enough to be able to circle the entirety of it with the lights until they’re fully wrapped. He plugs them in, and they light up perfectly, seemingly not a single one burnt-out. The off-white of the lights compliment the earthy tones of the houses regular decorations nicely, and he’s suddenly glad he wasn’t able to convince Hannibal to get the multicolored ones.

He prints out the picture of the two of them with the small Bluetooth printer Hannibal had demanded they have just in case, and he slides it into the small slot of the glass in the wooden picture frame. He had avoided looking at the picture at first, mainly because he knew he wasn’t the most photogenic person, and that camera was way too clear anyway, but he looks at it now. The sight of it made him slightly breathless.

Hannibal wasn’t looking at the camera, but instead at Will, nothing but open and strong love in his eyes. He was smiling lightly, that barely-there grin that Will had become accustomed to and adored dearly, and his hair was lightly falling onto his forehead, the usually perfectly styled haircut ruined from the wind outside.

Will was looking at the camera, cheeks pink from the cold outside and the nearly permanent blush whenever in proximity of the other man. His hair was falling down his forehead and covering his ears until it brushed his cheeks. The snow and wind outside only worked to define the curls more than normal, and they bounced lightly on the top of his head. The stubble on his jaw was brushing against the lapel of Hannibal’s coat, and the smile he subconsciously had on his face was real, showing in his eyes and the wrinkles on the inside of his mouth. It had been years since he saw a picture of himself where he looked genuinely _free_ , and while he saw himself in the mirror every morning, he never _looked_.

He felt himself smile at the photo, and decided that maybe he should take pictures with Hannibal more often, before hanging the ornament up right at eye-level, in the center and most noticeable part of the tree. He knew Hannibal would notice it without being prompted, and was excited for a reaction.

He grabbed the stag out of his jacket pocket and hung it up near the picture, slightly lower and to the left, before grabbing the bags and randomly placing the other ornaments until they were all hung up around the entirety of the tree. He had heard Hannibal walk in a few minutes before, presumably to announce that dinner had finished, but he finished decorating the tree completely until the bags were empty and the tree was full of mismatched and entirely too expensive ornaments.

It was _perfect_.

He hears Hannibal behind him, and turns around to see him patiently sitting on the sofa behind him, watching Will’s backside with a content smile on his face.

Will rolls his eyes, falls down onto the sofa next to the doctor and, after being handed a plate of something Will could never be able to pronounce or explain, says, “We forgot a tree topper.”

Hannibal laughs quietly, pouring each of them a glass of wine and setting them on the coffee table. He didn’t often let the either of them eat on the couch, but Will supposes it’s just one of those nights, where they can relax in front of the tree, enjoying the ambient lighting and warmth of the gas fireplace to the right of them.

“It’s too late to go now, but we can go and buy one tomorrow if you’d like.” He says without hesitation, because he would buy anything Will asked for without hesitation.

“I think I like it without the topper, actually. It’s plenty full enough already.” Will replies, looking at the ornament covered tree wrapped in ivory lighting. Hannibal just hums, accepting that, before intently looking at the tree himself. He notices the picture frame quickly, and stands up to get a closer look at it.

“This is what you were asking for the picture for, yes?” Hannibal asks, and he’s smiling. He obviously finds the picture frame quite amusing, and wasn’t as irritated as Will was expecting (hoping) him to be, but he also seems to stare deeply at the picture. They had never knowingly taken a picture together before, and Hannibal seems just as entranced by it as Will was.

“Yes. Do you like it?” He responds, nervous despite already knowing the answer if the expression on Hannibal’s face was anything to go by.

“I love it.” Hannibal says, before walking back to the couch and kissing Will lightly and sweetly, brushing his hand through his hair, tugging lightly until Will lets out a sigh and then painfully letting go to continue eating his food.

They finish quietly, peaceful in each other’s company and the dim lighting of the fire and tree. Hannibal gets up to do the dishes quickly, before coming back and laying Will down on the sofa, snuggling in between Will and the backrest of the couch and wrapping his arm around Will’s waist.

Relaxed and pliant, he falls asleep to the sound of Hannibal breathing against his neck and the feeling of fingers brushing through his hair.

The two of them stay like that for the rest of the night, comfortable in each other’s arms in front of the lit tree.

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! That was really fun to write. I've been wanting to write shorter, single-chapter pieces for a while now, and this is the first one that I've actually finished and published. It's only a few days before Christmas, but there's never a bad time for cheesy Christmas fluff!
> 
> I would love to read your comments, they absolutely make my day! Love y'all!


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